2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The man walked across the room to greet him formerly, and Rowan was in awe of the man in the fine clothing and suave mannerisms. “I’m Dante Carrillo, the owner of the…everything.”

Rowan took the proffered hand and didn’t think he’d ever shaken a softer hand, at least not on a man.

He was truly beautiful. He had olive skin and piercing dark eyes that smiled like his supple lips. “Mr. Carrillo, hello.”

“Dante, please. How do you like the place so far?”

He could say he hadn’t seen enough of it, but that would be a lie. He’d seen all he needed to know he loved it. “It’s a beautiful place. You must be proud.”

“I am. Let me give you the grand tour of the club.”

As they walked through the semi-darkness, Dante explained, “We’ve been having trouble with the generator lately. I’m here to let the electrician inside to look it over while Jace deals with a few glitchy appliances in the guest cabins. The bigger the place, the more the issues.”

The main area consisted of the stage, tables with chairs neatly placed on top, booths with saloon-style doors in front of them, and a long bar that looked like an old west bar, complete with a distorted mirror running the length behind it.

“As you can see, we’ve gone out of our way to make this completely themed. Our drinks, non-alcoholic here, of course, are even served in mason jars.”

“It’s fun. There are not many places that go to these lengths for authenticity.”

“We strive for that. We want our guests to feel like they’ve gone back in time.”

Dante led him up the stairs to the second floor, explaining, “These are the private rooms for play. This is, after all, a BDSM club. There’s another bar down at the end, and each room has protections in place, in case one of the men inside is hurt or needs assistance.”

Up more stairs, Rowan saw the aforementioned VIP lounge. There were two smaller stages, booths, couches, and tables, along with another bar and stripper poles that he thought were wood until he touched one. “Metal?”

“We had it coated with a faux-wood treatment. As I’ve said, we strive for authenticity. Not that I think they had stripper poles in the 1800s, but…”

“This is…incredible.”

“I’m glad you approve. You’ve been to hundreds of clubs, so your opinion means a lot.”

Rowan smiled warmly. “Well, it’s unique, fun, and I must admit, I’m a little intimidated. I’ll have to make up a new routine.”

“I’m sure whatever you have planned is going to be great. Our patrons are good people. We haven't had one negative incident in the six months we’ve been open.”

“Really? That’s incredible.”

“We only serve alcohol in the saloon, so that helps,” Dante confessed. “But even there, people simply want to relax.”

The man was smoother than a lake with no wind, like a glass mirroring the sky. Scanning quickly, he saw the wedding ring and felt a little disappointed.

“I’ll take you down to your dressing room. The basement is for employees only, so please don't take anyone down there if you happen to find someone you want to spend time with.”

“Sure.”

They went to the basement, where there was a row of doors, and the last one had a star with his name on it. Rowan laughed when he saw it. “I’ve seen this in movies. Never had one in real life.”

“Well, you are a star. We’ve had others that are known and popular come, and we treat them like stars. Of course, all our performers are treated well. We give rousing referrals to those who’ve come to perform, too. We’d like to make more men like yourself get a taste of that fame.”

Never in his life had he met anyone so generous. “How do you make money?”

Dante’s smile was pure wickedness. “A very few of our VIP memberships alone pay for your fees, dear boy.”

“I see. Very nice.”

“We also have a working cattle ranch. We have merchandise in the stores, among other things. The stores, the food, the saloon, all of it pays for itself so that things like the club can pay for what all else is needed, and the rest is pure profit.”

“I love your setup already. I’m glad to be here. Truly.”

“We love having you. I’ll go to Jace’s office while I wait for the electrician and let you get to rehearsing. You can come anytime we’re off hours, so feel free.”

“Thank you. I may do that. I think I’d like to work out an exclusive routine for Cowpokes.”

“You already have my affection, Rowan. Please, don’t go out of your way. Anything you do will be priceless, I’m sure.”

The man was smooth, that was for sure, but Rowan didn’t sit on his reputation and let that work for him. He needed to keep it up by working as hard as he ever did when he was just starting out.

He took off his coat and hung it over a chair he’d taken down from one of the tables and took off his shoes.

He was wearing sweats and a tank, so he could move well while he rehearsed. Climbing on the stage, it wasn’t as high as some he’d danced in the past. It was wide and rounded, and there were tables almost to the edge of it.

Ticking off all these things was a habit of his. He’d witnessed too many guys take a wrong twirl and fall off the stage, into a ravenous crowd. He’d so far avoided that, so the routine was useful, and made him more confident.

Stepping all around the edge of the stage, smelling the wood, the subtle scent of snow in the air, hearing the wind, amplifying that in his mind to sound like the crowd of men in the audience.

After moving to the center of the stage, Rowan stood as still as he could, barely breathing, taking in all the elements of the place. He was happily surprised to find the scents so natural and sweet. So many times, the places where he danced smelled like dried cum and harsh male sweat. All mixed into a suffocating scent that hindered his very movements.

He didn’t need music; there was enough in his mind, and it played whenever he wanted it to.

Bending, twisting, his hands rising over his head, swaying, his head dropping back before he spun around and around several times, the ball of his left foot holding his weight, he felt so light and free when he was dancing, like the world was far away, and there was nothing except air and movement.

Yes, with shoes and tight clothing, Rowan is somewhat restricted, but it doesn’t impede him as it did others. The more clothes he shed, the better he felt, the freer.

He heard music coming over the speakers and stopped moving. His eyes opened to a beautiful blond man standing near the bar. “Oh, hi!”

“Hello. I didn’t know if you weren’t sure where the music was.”

Rowan came to the edge of the stage and sat down, letting his legs dangle. “I didn’t ask, so it was my fault.”

“You seemed to do fine without it,” the man said as he neared the stage. “I’m Blaine Carrillo. I’m one of the owners.”

“I met your husband,” he said as he reached out his hand to Blaine. “He’s…something.”

“That is the opinion of most,” Blaine said, laughing as he shook Rowan’s hand. “You dance beautifully.”

“I never knew how much I liked it before I took it up to help me make money. Now…I love it.”

“You’ve never taken classes?”

The man was beautiful, and his eyes and smile were so warm, so lovely. He could see how a man like Dante could fall madly in love with him. “Not one.”

“You’re a natural. That’s uncommon.”

Dante was suddenly there, and he walked straight to Blaine to kiss him on the neck. “Hello, BB.”

“Dante, I was just getting to know our star.”

“Isn’t he wonderful? I came up to show you where the music was, and here you found it.”

“Blaine turned it on for me.”

“We should leave you to rehearse. If you need anything at all, let Jace know. and it’ll be provided for you immediately if we can. We must get back to our babies.”

“You have kids?”

“Oh, yes,” Blaine said, and his entire face lit up as he went on. “They’re beautiful. The man that came with you on the plane, Barry, his wife was our surrogate. She’s babysitting for us right now while we run some errands.”

“Congratulations.”

As they left, Rowan watched them with a warm feeling, and a little envy. They were walking hand in hand. A family, love, a place like the resort…they had everything.

His life felt so empty. He had no love and a lonely home where he spent very little time between gigs.

The music was perfect, so he stood and shook off the melancholy. Rowan danced off his emotions. It was a thousand times better than talking to a therapist. His body could get tired, his mind could flow, and his heart could beat away—no men needed.

The theme was Western, but he didn’t know the first thing about Western dancing. If…did cowboys dance? They had cowboy bars, and he’d even seen a few gay cowboy bars. Of course, they danced in those.

Stopping his dance, he went to the bar and found where the music was located, a standing screen with a million songs loaded.

They were separated by genre, so he quickly found the Western songs, and when he picked the first one, he grimaced. A twangy voice forlorn for their wife and dog, tears in his beer…

Then he saw Carrie Underwood and he perked considerably. Playing a song about cheating, he smiled and immediately found the rhythm in his body.

Once Rowan got back on stage, ideas already sprung to his mind, and they all moved down into his body. Soon, he was leaping around the stage, throwing fists, twirling ferociously, all while laughter fell from deep in his chest.

Security for the place was tighter than he’d ever seen. Sig left his big Dodge truck and leaned against it as he called the number.

“Sig, you son of a bitch. Where are you?” Jace Conroy asked happily.

“I’m at your fancy damn club. Where the hell are you?”

“I’ll be there in ten. Wait inside. It should be open. It usually is around this time of the afternoon, so the staff can start getting ready for the night. I know it’s as cold as hell outside.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m a country boy from New Mexico. We’re not used to this kind of cold.”

After the call ended, he headed to the big barn doors, feeling like he was back home on his horse ranch. The pride of his life, that ranch, how he’d started it with the very small inheritance from his father and money he’d saved over the years.

It had taken off well, and besides being a breeding farm, it was also a refuge for abused cattle, horses, and other livestock.

Sig heard one of his favorite singers drifting out from the club as he opened the door. When he peeked a look inside, he saw a man on the stage dancing like everyone should, like nobody was there to watch.

Suddenly the cold didn’t bother him a bit. Entranced by the sight of the beautiful dancer, Sig leaned on the door, keeping it barely open, only enough to watch.

The way the man’s body moved, like he was boneless and more than that. There was a look of utter peace on his pretty face.

That was the way Sig felt when he was on his ranch, riding a horse into the desert, watching the clouds move across the sky, the wind in his face. It was a feeling of freedom that he knew for a fact most people never felt.

Just looking at the man on the stage, he knew that man felt that freedom and how Sig would love to share it with him.

“Hey, buddy!”

Jace had arrived, and Sig shut the door, walking over to his friend to accept the hug. “How you doin’, Jace?”

They parted and Jace answered, “I’m fucking great. This is the best job in the world,” he said, laughing.

“I bet. Constantly surrounded by hot men.”

“Oh, yeah, well, I look but can’t touch anymore. Not with two of my own.”

“Two men. Are you crazy or just a glutton for punishment?”

Jace barked a laugh. “This from the confirmed bachelor. When are you gonna get one?”

The vision of the dancing angel came to him, but he shook it off quickly. “Not my thing anymore, my man.”

“Being single is fine, but it gets lonely. How about you come in and let me give you a tour?”

Sig didn’t want that. “Someone’s in there, dancing. I’d rather not disturb him.”

“Oh, right, right, Rowan McDuffy.”

Cocking his head, Sig asked, “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“I forgot. You don’t ever leave your ranch.”

“I’m not at my ranch right now!”

Jace groaned, “I got you here to negotiate to sell some of your horses to our ranch, or you’d have never left. The guy, McDuffy, is a famous exotic dancer. He’s been all over the world, smoking body, nice moves. We lucked out getting him for the holiday season.”

“Nice. Still, I’d rather not disturb him. I’ll take a raincheck on the tour. I think I’ll head back to the cabin for a while. How about we meet up for supper at that place in your town?”

“Ahh, yeah, that food is fucking perfect. I’m gaining weight eating there so much, but you’re on. The boys and I will meet you there around seven.”

“I’ll call for a reservation.”

“I’m the manager of the entire resort, Sig. It comes with perks. One, no reservations needed for the restaurant, the private rooms in this club here, or whatever else I want. See you at seven.”

Sig went to his truck, but as soon as Jace drove away, Sig opened the door a crack again to act like some creepy stalker and watched Rowan McDuffy dance.